


That Makes Two of Us

by Finely Honed (jaqen_hgar)



Series: Imagine Tony & Bucky [40]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Canon-Typical Violence, Carjacking, Hand Jobs, M/M, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Prosthesis, Self-Acceptance, Sexual Content, Wrong number
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-05
Updated: 2015-06-05
Packaged: 2018-04-03 00:25:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4079584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jaqen_hgar/pseuds/Finely%20Honed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <span class="small">Prompt: Wrong number 'verse. Tony has a panic attack, Bucky helps him. Cuddling, Tony tells what Stane did. Also like to see first night stay together, Tony kissing & loving all of Bucky's scars after a bad day, & them having to touch when together. Love! :)</span>
</p><p>If asked, Tony wouldn’t have been able to say how he managed to get there, but that didn’t matter so much. What mattered was that Bucky answered the door, took one look at him, and pulled him inside.</p><p>Follows <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/3576705">Wrong Number</a>, <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/3612471">Right Number</a>, and <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/3850747">Wait and See</a>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	That Makes Two of Us

**Author's Note:**

> Well, this won’t be exactly what was requested, because Tony already told Bucky about Stane during phone calls before they met IRL.

If asked, Tony wouldn’t have been able to say how he managed to get there, but that didn’t matter so much. What mattered was that Bucky answered the door, took one look at him, and pulled him inside.

“Sorry,” Tony said, his breath hitching. “Shit.”

His body had been kind enough to go on autopilot for him, but now that it had decided he was safe, it was just giving up. It was like having a heart attack, or what he imagined a heart attack might feel like. Or was it more like drowning? All he knew was that every bit of data his brain was providing him with seemed to suggest in large, flashing, ten foot high neon lights YOU’RE DYING.

He wasn’t. He knew he wasn’t, but knowing that and convincing his body of it wasn’t exactly something he was capable of.

But then he was pulled against a warm, broad chest, his nostrils filling with the now familiar and entirely comforting smell of Bucky.

“I gotcha,” Bucky said softly, wrapping an arm around Tony’s shoulders. “You’re safe.”

Which was wonderful. Really wonderful, actually. The last time he’d had a panic attack, Bucky had been a voice coming through the phone, doing his best to provide comfort and support, but that was nothing like this. Nothing like being able to hold on for dear life while shaking to pieces in the arms of someone who cared.

Being ashamed wasn’t even a possibility, which was also kind of new. Tony loved Pepper and Rhodey, but something about the way he and Bucky had started their relationship meant he’d found himself using the other man as a confessional. Without a doubt, he’d never been as honest or open with another person in his life.

“There you go,” Bucky said, his voice low and calm and steady. “Listen to my heartbeat. When you’re ready, try breathing with me.”

One warm hand ran up and down his back, fingers teasing into the hair at the nape of his neck before Bucky just went back to holding on tight. Tony listened to his heartbeat; it was like a metronome, and a calming one at that. Bucky’s breathing was slow and steady, too, and although it was a struggle, Tony found a way to sync up with him. And at some point, he realized he was no longer having a panic attack, he was just swaying with Bucky almost as if they were dancing.

“Thanks,” Tony sighed, shifting around so he could press his face against Bucky’s neck. “You’re even better at this in person.”

Bucky turned and kissed his cheek. “Wanna talk about it?”

The strange thing was, Tony did. Normally he never wanted to talk about anything personal with anyone. Pepper and Rhodey could attest to the difficulties they’d experienced trying to pry things out of him. Usually it wasn’t until he was almost black out drunk that he’d lose the ability to stay silent, and parts of the truth would come tumbling out.

Bucky, though. Bucky was different. Tony closed his eyes and cleared his throat. “They’re putting him in some country club prison.”

“Come on,” Bucky said, and he stepped back, took Tony’s hand. “Want anything? We just got some of that hot chocolate mix with the marshmallows.”

Tony smiled despite himself. “Yeah, okay.”

Bucky made them the hot chocolate, while Tony held onto him from behind, face nestled between Bucky’s shoulder blades. It helped keep him calm, not that he needed an excuse. He’d always thought of physical contact as a way to charge his batteries. He could go pretty long without doing it, but when he was allowed to hold or be held it was like some part of his OS came out of sleep mode, whirring to life and filling him with sustained warmth and happiness. As a result, he tended to go overboard when someone would actually  _let_  him make physical contact, desperately wanting to keep that part of himself up and running.

Pepper tolerated it better than most, would let him curl up and put his head in her lap, would pet his hair, but it wasn’t anything like this. Bucky touched him all the time, never sighed with irritation, or pushed him away, or told him he was acting clingy, or lectured him on personal space. 

Not that Pepper did those things either, but she also didn’t seek out the contact. They were friends, and it would have been inappropriate to slide his hand under her shirt so he could feel warm, smooth skin beneath his fingertips.

Bucky sighed contentedly, and Tony slid the other hand under as well, running his palms over the firm, muscled body, appreciating the warmth and human contact even more than the sculptured nature of Bucky’s body. He wasn’t wearing the prosthetic, and so there were no straps to encounter, although Tony could feel the differences in texture where the straps normally rested, and occasionally chafed Bucky’s skin. He could feel the various raised ridges and oddly smooth patches of scars.

Once, this would have freaked Bucky out. He would have tensed, and Tony would have withdrawn, returning to petting safer territories, waiting until the body beneath his hands relaxed back into the touch before he’d let go. It was important Bucky understood Tony didn’t take any of it personal, wasn’t going to go anywhere even if it took Bucky years before he wanted to get naked.

He’d grown significantly more at ease with his body since Tony had first met him face to face. Slowly but surely, he’d allowed Tony to invade his personal space. To be honest, before Bucky, he hadn’t known how patient he was capable of being, or just how refreshing the slow burning nature of their relationship would be.

Tony didn’t have too many hangups about sex. He enjoyed sex, and didn’t feel he should be ashamed about that, but he’d also had one too many relationships that were about nothing but sex, and that that sort of thing left him feeling sad, and lonely.

They’d been together at least a month the first time Tony had spent the night, and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d spent the night with someone and actually slept. They hadn’t even gotten naked, although there was quite a bit of kissing. Lots, and lots of kissing, with Bucky’s weight pinning him into the mattress, before he’d pulled away, looking scared.

“Is it… Can we just…”

“Yeah, of course,” Tony had answered readily, stroking Bucky’s face and kissing his cheek, not making him finish the sentence. “We can put something on, fall asleep together?”

Relief washed over Bucky’s handsome features, only to be replaced with trepidation a moment later when Tony opened his mouth again. “It’s up to you, but I know sleeping with the prosthetic on can’t be comfortable. I can leave the room, don’t worry, and you can just give a shout when you’re ready for me to come back in.”

He hadn’t been sure how Bucky would react. He’d yet to see him without the prosthetic, but he also knew full well that Bucky had a love hate relationship with the thing. It never seemed to quite fit comfortably, and its capabilities weren’t exactly mindblowing. Bucky was the reason he’d changed SI’s R&D focus to bionic limb tech, although he wasn’t stupid enough to tell Bucky that. Not yet. He didn’t need to feel like Tony was trying to fix him, especially considering Tony thought he was perfect the way he was.

Bucky sucked air in through his teeth. “Yeah. Fuck it. Won’t take long.”

Tony had kissed him again, and hadn’t said anything when it took almost an hour before Bucky worked up the nerve to call him back into the room, looking for all the world like he expected Tony to run screaming at the sight of the empty sleeve.

“There’s an X-files marathon on,” he’d said instead, grabbing the remote and turning the TV on before plopping himself down on Bucky’s left side. The body beside his own was stiff for a moment as Tony rested his head against the shoulder, and made no sign of being even slightly disturbed by the lack of appendage.

Really, he didn’t have to act. He wasn’t disturbed—obviously, he hated that it had happened to Bucky, and that the man was struggling with recovery—he was proud as hell. No two ways about it, he was batshit crazy in love with the guy.

Before they’d fallen asleep, Bucky had relaxed, curled around him, their fingers twined and resting on Tony’s stomach. It was probably one of the best nights of sleep he’d had in years.

So that had been it for a while, really. Making out, going on dates, making out some more, sleeping together, hanging out around Bucky’s place, getting to know Steve, making out even more. Did he want to rip Bucky’s clothes off and lick every last inch of him? Sure. But not until Bucky would be comfortable enough to thoroughly enjoy himself.

Tony counted the fact that Bucky no longer felt the need to wear the prosthetic around him as an epic victory. And maybe his continued lack of giving a fuck was reassuring, because one night they’d been doing their typical making out thing, and the next thing he knew there was a hand down his pants.

“Oh, fuck,  _Bucky_ ,” he’d almost shouted, cracking his head against the wall Bucky’s bed was pushed up against, making his boyfriend burst out laughing.

“Shh, Steve’s right next door,” he’d whispered.

Without a doubt, it’d been the best handjob he’d ever had. He and Bucky had tangled themselves together, and Tony had worked Bucky’s jeans open, finally getting to see and touch what he’d been feeling pressed against his thigh (hidden under denim) during all those makeout sessions. He’d wanted to be all suave, but in reality he’d come in an almost embarrassingly short period of time, Bucky’s cock in his hand, and his tongue in his mouth. It had been  _amazing_.

He’d shifted Bucky around so that he was lying with his back against his chest, wrapped his arms around him, and jerked him off nice and slow, kissing and sucking at his neck, tugging on his earlobe, whispering dirty filthy things to him while Bucky held on for dear life. Bucky had his hand up behind him, fisted in Tony’s hair, had tugged him down for a sloppy, wonderful kiss, thrusting up into Tony’s hands, biting down into his lower lip almost painfully as he finally came, making a fantastic mess of things. Tony was pretty sure he’d died and gone to heaven.

After that, shared orgasms became all the rage in Bucky’s bedroom. It was as if once they’d crossed that line they couldn’t stop touching each other. They kissed each other senseless, grinding and groping. They jerked each other off, jerked off while watching each other. Tony was a big fan of straddling Bucky, just rubbing against him, or stroking both their cocks at the same time. And because it was with Bucky, it was some of the best sex Tony had ever had, nevermind that he still hadn’t seen the man naked.

Things really got crazy the first time Bucky dragged him into the bedroom, shoved him against the door, then dropped to his knees. Tony was all too eager to return the favor. And yes, maybe the morning after Steve had given him a, “I hope you know I can hear you fucking my best friend,” look, but that was only to be expected. He was really,  _really_  good at giving head.

It was all incredibly hot, and wonderful. There’d been a lot more groping since then, Bucky slowly but surely getting more comfortable with Tony reaching beneath his shirt to feel his warm skin, but Tony would be lying if he said he didn’t long to feel all of Bucky’s skin against his own. They’d at least gotten to the point where the pants would come off fully, which was significant progress, but there was something amazingly comforting about being totally naked with someone. It made him feel greedy and ungrateful that he couldn’t stop wanting it, so Tony spent a great deal of time focusing on everything they did share together, which was a bounty of pleasures, really. To call himself lucky was the understatement of the century.

“C’mere,” Bucky ordered, having Tony curl against his side on the couch as they drank their hot chocolate. “Feeling any better?”

“Worlds yeah, actually,” Tony admitted, closing his eyes for a moment and just feeling everywhere they were pressed together. “It’s… Well, it’s strange actually being so comfortable with someone. Normally, the idea of letting anyone be near me while that’s happening… Yeah. I love you. Thanks.”

A warm, lingering kiss was pressed against his forehead, and Tony smiled, opened his eyes, and took a big sip of hot chocolate. “I love you, too,” Bucky said, and Tony smiled so hard his face hurt, had a hard time wrapping his head around the understanding that less than half an hour ago he’d been in the midst of a panic attack.

“You know, I really wish I had some way of proving that asshole was behind my carjacking,” Tony said, grinding his teeth.

Bucky was still for a moment. Tony didn’t talk about the source of his own particular brand of PTSD very often. Bucky had learned about it over the phone, Tony feeling ashamed by how hard it was to discuss; Bucky had been to war, he was a goddamned hero, not a scared little rich boy. It should have be easier for Tony. He hadn’t even been injured, aside from some scraped knees.

Tony had been at a fundraising event, and it wasn’t until much, much later that he remembered Stane’s persistence about him attending, and began to put two and two together. Tony had been there, had a few drinks, and they’d caught up with him in a way they shouldn’t have, but hadn’t be suspicious at the time. Now he was convinced he’d been drugged, but he hadn’t thought to have a blood test at the time of the event. Why would he?

Stane had taken him by the shoulder, put him in a car, told him to go sleep it off, doing his whole, “I’m just looking out for you, boy,” routine. Only, there had been construction, and the driver had taken a detour, and the next thing he knew he was up close and personal with one of the guns he’d actually designed.

There had been shouting, and struggling, and at some point the adrenaline had helped sober him up enough that he realized the two armed men were carjacking them. “Just let them have the car,” he remembered shouting, right before the driver was shot in the head.

Tony had expected to die, and maybe a small part of him had even welcomed it. He knew he’d been in shock, would be for some time. He could still remember the sound, and the sensation of blood and… other things hitting him in the face as he sat there in the back seat, stunned, not even struggling as he was dragged from the car.

He’d been made to kneel down, knees hitting the pavement hard, had felt the muzzle of the gun pressed to the side of his head. Tony could recall wondering when his life was supposed to flash before his eyes, and whether they’d make Pepper or Obie or Rhodey identify his body, and that really, what the fuck did he have to show for his life?

Tony had knelt in the street, his hands shaking against his thighs, eyes closed, holding his breath, waiting to die. And then there had been the sound of a siren, and flashing lights, and more gunfire. He’d kept his eyes closed the whole time, wondering why he was still alive, until someone had taken him by the shoulder, given him a little shake, and he’d opened them again to find a cop standing there, staring down at him all wide eyed and frightened.

Pepper had cried when she came to get him, and he’d tried to play it all off as no big deal. He’d told her to pay off whatever financial debts the cops had, or buy them cars, or something. He’d had her find out everything she could about the guy who’d been killed because he’d had the bad luck of being Tony’s driver that night, and tried to make his family’s life easier, but money didn’t give someone their husband or father back.

None of it had felt real for a very, very long time. Then it’d been too real, it had kept him in the bottle, and away from his bed, the sleepless nights and gnawing guilt and strange anxiety attacks taking over his life.

Unable to shake the experience off, he’d become convinced he had to do something, make some changes in his life. He’d pulled out of weapons manufacturing, figuring it was a start. Obie had had a conniption fit, and had been oddly perturbed when Tony had begun paying an almost fanatical amount of attention to the business. Which was when he’d noticed some of the discrepancies that had led him to reevaluate his relationship with Stane.

He’d been unable to prove he’d been behind the carjacking, but the embezzlement was _something_. It was enough to get him arrested. There was no statute of limitation on murder. Maybe with more time, more digging, he could find the connection, and Stane could be locked away in some maximum security hellhole.

Tony squeezed his eyes shut, jaw clenched as he swallowed around the rising panic. Concentrated on Bucky’s warmth beside him, steadied his breathing again.

“He’s still going away, right?” Bucky sounded concerned as he stroked Tony’s hair.

“Minimum security. He’s out of my company, and more or less out of my life, but it still feels like he won somehow.”

It should have been a relief, and he kept telling himself that, but still. A part of him was terrified that Stane was going to reach out from behind bars, find a way to get revenge.

“I’m terrified he’ll do something to hurt you, once he finds out you exist.”

Bucky tightened his hold. “Good news is, I can look out for myself. Didn’t you say his assets were seized?”

“Yeah, but I’m sure there are scumbags all over the place that owe him favors.”

With a sigh, Tony set down his hot chocolate, and scrubbed a hand over his face, sitting on the edge of the couch cushion. “It was hard enough getting a stranger killed. I don’t think I’d survive if anything happened to you. Especially not if it was because of me.”

Bucky gave him a one-handed shoulder rub. “Ain’t gonna let that happen.” Tony turned around, wanting to argue, but… There was a look in Bucky’s eyes. A steely determination that made him appear almost invincible. “I done a lot of shit I’m not proud of, but I won’t lose any sleep over protecting the people I love. And, thanks to you, I actually love myself these days.”

There was nothing funny about any of that, but Tony still burst out laughing. It was a testament to how much Bucky  _got_ him that he just grinned, and gave Tony a little shove, before pulling him into a kiss.

“That makes two of us,” Tony said, sounding a bit like he might start crying.

“It’s gonna be okay,” Bucky insisted.

“As long as I have you.”

Bucky was staring at him, a strange look in his eyes as he slowly, carefully brought their mouths together for another kiss. “Did you sleep at all last night?” he asked, nuzzling Tony’s mouth with his own.

“Too stressed.”

“Thought so.” Bucky stood up, reached out and offered Tony his hand, then began walking toward the bedroom. “Let’s take a nap, then we can take Steve out to dinner.”

“Don’t know if I’ll be able to sleep.”

“We can still try,” Bucky insisted, shutting the door behind them.

Tony fought off a yawn, which earned him a chuckle. It never failed to surprise him how safe Bucky could make him feel. Tony toed off his shoes, and looked up, mouth open to ask where they should go for dinner when the words died on his lips.

Bucky was standing in the middle of the room, biting down hard into his lower lip, slowly pushing up the hem of his shirt, eyes darting nervously as he looked from Tony’s face to the floor and back again. Tony held his breath, not wanting to move or do or say anything.

And then Bucky swallowed, and with one swift, efficient move he tugged the shirt up and over his head, tossing it across the room. He stood there, shoulders squared as if he was about to face a firing squad or something, while Tony’s jaw dropped.

Bucky was lean, hard muscle. He’d felt that skin, run his hands all over it, mapping it as much as Bucky would let him, but seeing was a different thing entirely. Broad shoulders, pecs to die for, and the abs? Tony wanted to lick every last inch of him.

“Fuck me,” Tony groaned, taking two steps forward before catching himself. Bucky was breathing rapidly, was watching him warily. “You’re  _beautiful_ ,” he insisted, making sure Bucky was looking in his eyes. “Can I touch you?”

Bucky nodded, his eyes still wide, confusion and fear and hope all battling there. Tony took whatever steps were necessary to bring him close enough to touch, unbuttoning his own shirt and yanking it aside as quickly as possible. With a shaking hand, he reached out and traced along Bucky’s collarbone, watching the rapid rise and fall of his chest.

“If…”

“Don’t you dare,” Tony insisted, pressing his mouth against Bucky’s before he could say anything stupid. “Just let me know if I touch somewhere you don’t like, and I’ll stop.”

Bucky licked his lips nervously, but nodded. He hissed as Tony brushed his thumbs over nipples, before letting his fingertips trace over the curves and dips of collarbone once more, dragging his lips across the same expanse of skin after.

“You’re perfect,” he sighed, pressing a wet kiss against the side of Bucky’s neck.

“I’m a fucking mess,” Bucky said, tensing up again, only to gasp when Tony grabbed his hand, and brought it to his crotch. He was already hard, rocked himself against Bucky’s palm. “Huh.”

“No, you are unbelievably sexy,” Tony insisted, and let go of Bucky’s wrist. The hand stayed there, though, stroking him through his pants as Bucky stared down into his eyes. “All of you. I love all of you, Bucky.”

Then the hand was in his hair, and Bucky was kissing him roughly, eyes open and a little wild as he licked his way into Tony’s mouth, and stole his breath.

“Was just gonna sleep skin to skin,” Bucky moaned, his entire body shaking as Tony stroked every last bit of him he could reach, rubbing his bare chest against Bucky’s all while doing so. “Been thinking ‘bout this a lot lately.”

“You feel so good,” Tony groaned, fumbling with Bucky’s pants.

“It’s… it’s really okay with you?” Bucky asked, sounding so very young, and vulnerable, and Tony stopped messing with his belt and instead looked up into his eyes again. “It’s fucking  _ugly_ , Tony. What they did to me.”

“It’s not,” Tony swore, stroking his hand down over Bucky’s left shoulder, waiting for the soldier to stop him. Maybe Bucky had thought he’d stop himself, that disgust would suddenly manifest, but whatever the reason, Tony was able to finish his caress, fingers stroking over the whirled and raised scars around where Bucky’s left arm ended and nothingness began. “It’s part of  _you_ , and you’re beautiful, and perfect, and I love you. So fucking much.”

Not too surprising that Bucky had started crying. Tony didn’t blame him. Hell, he joined in. It was a big deal, and he had never been so honored in his life. He and Steve had talked, and he knew it’d taken ages before Bucky had even felt comfortable enough to let his best friend see him without his shirt on. And even then, it’d only happened once.

They wound up in the bed together, Bucky in his arms, crying with relief, and grief, and happiness, and acceptance, Tony holding him and wondering what the hell he’d done right in his life to deserve this kind of love and trust.

“I will never stop being amazed by your bravery,” Tony sighed, wrapping himself around Bucky.

“Tony,” Bucky whispered, his lips brushing against bare skin. “Thank you.”

“Don’t be crazy,” Tony answered, yawning. “You’re the incredibly hot, well-adjusted one that makes me feel like I won the goddamned lottery every day. I should be thanking you.”

Bucky shook with laughter beside him. “Says the incredibly hot genius that I fell head over heels in love with.”

Tony smiled, and snuggled closer, reveling in all the flesh to flesh contact. “You know, I almost feel bad for Steve,” he murmured, letting his eyes droop closed. “We were already disgustingly cute. S’gonna be way worse now.”

“He’ll get over it.”

“I’m okay with that if you’re okay.”

Bucky snuggled closer, and pressed a kiss against Tony’s shoulder. “I’m okay. Very okay.”

With a smile, Tony allowed himself to be okay, too. Allowed himself to believe everything would be okay. Allowed himself to fall asleep in the arms of the man he loved.


End file.
